Awards Season
by JinnySkeans
Summary: "Hollywood is a place where they'll pay you a thousand dollars for a kiss and fifty cents for your soul." - Marilyn Monroe
1. Chapter 1

It was good to be home.

His dog, lethargic from the drive, hurried inside to claim his favorite sleeping spot, the plush area rug that got the most sun from the large bay window facing the desert. Sasuke left his luggage in the car; Bogey had the right idea. A nap was in order.

His house was dusty, the air stale. No one had been inside it for three months. Sasuke shuddered inwardly, imagining the state of his refrigerator, and decided that too could wait until he'd gotten some sleep.

LA always took everything out of him.

Despite his exhaustion – seven hours' drive in his Cadillac always took its toll – he was glad to be back. He didn't love much in the world, but he loved his dog, and he loved his old, rustic home in Sedona. Bogey, he could take with him when he had work; indeed there wasn't a job on the planet he would take if it couldn't accommodate his dog. It was the house – well-kept if old-fashioned – that Sasuke missed on these months-long studio lot shoots.

He'd had it prearranged with his agent that under no circumstances was he to be contacted for one week, for any reason. Sasuke was notoriously private, and when shooting wrapped up and he was no longer required on set, he took off for Sedona. No one, save for his agent and a few very close friends all sworn to secrecy, knew exactly where he lived. His phone number was restricted to the same handful of people and living off the radar had ensured that the paparazzi and screaming fans who hounded his every footstep in LA remained firmly ignorant to his whereabouts once filming wrapped.

The week-long reprieve was a rarity, and Sasuke did not intend to take it for granted. There would be press junkets coming up, interviews; it was down in his contract to promote the films he starred in, even if he despised reporters and found the entire process arduous and boring. Not to mention, his agent was always on the lookout for promising scripts, buzzworthy roles for him to take on. The annoying part was, Kakashi was frustratingly prescient; nearly every role he'd pressed Sasuke to audition for had been interesting, dynamic, and, most importantly, profitable. In the four years since he'd begun working with Kakashi, every movie Sasuke had appeared in had made a killing at the box office. Sasuke was, unequivocally, the most highly sought-after young actor working in Hollywood.

Despite his fame and the fortune he'd amassed since he was 18, there weren't many aspects of the Hollywood lifestyle he wasn't perfectly comfortable abandoning. He resented the smog of LA, and the humidity, to say nothing of the constant lack of privacy and the pervading materialism. He justified making his living there, but his life was in Sedona.

Content that Bogey was all right for awhile, Sasuke shuffled into his bedroom and threw open the windows. Such openness would have been an impossibility at his apartment in LA, but out here, where there was no one else around for miles, he could allow himself this blessed luxury. A pleasant spring breeze tousled his hair and he exhaled, allowing the stress of his job and frustration with California evaporate in the solitude of his room.

Home again. Home alone.

* * *

Sasuke's phone held exactly seven contacts.

His agent, Kakashi Hatake, was the person with whom he had the most communication, and that was entirely a professional obligation. Personally, Sasuke resented the older man's constant interference in his life, his frustratingly accurate predictions of which roles Sasuke would enjoy playing, and the generally needling paternal way Kakashi often spoke to him.

Also in Sasuke's phone was his veterinarian, Hana Inuzuka, who took excellent care of Bogey and was always available for a house examination whenever Sasuke and Bogey were in LA. Hana's younger brother Kiba, with whom Sasuke had grown up in California, also featured on his contact list as one of his closest friends.

His best friend was Naruto, an aspiring director currently working as an assistant (read: Starbucks bitch) to Jiraiya, the screenwriter behind many of Hollywood's most misogynistic, Bechdel test-flouting films, where it was rumored that actresses were only considered if they wore DD-cup bras or above. Shikamaru Nara, a cameraman who'd just gotten his first gig on a sitcom set, and Chouji Akimichi, whose family's company catered a great deal of film sets in LA, were two more of his friends whom he trusted enough to allow in his contacts.

And the last person in his phone was someone with whom he rarely ever spoke, and even then, only with open hostility:

His frequent co-star, and eternal pain in the ass, Sakura Haruno.

Everyone, even Naruto, knew that he was not to be bothered while on leave. He'd had Kakashi's word that there would be no impromptu calls, no emails with some unfinished script in the attachment, along with a sly suggestion to glance it over, not even a text reminding him of his obligations to promote the film he'd just finished once the week was up. He was confident that Kakashi would keep his promise, if only to avoid a fight. Bogey had just been to the vet before they'd come back to Sedona so there was no reason to contact Hana, Kiba, Chouji, Shikamaru and Naruto were busy enough in their own jobs to appreciate his need for privacy and relaxation so soon after finishing his movie, and none of them, he knew, would be foolish enough to attempt to speak to him when he was on his break.

No, when his phone rang at 8:30 that night, two hours after he and Bogey had arrived back home and six days before he was expected to speak to another living soul, he knew exactly who was calling.

Annoyed, but knowing she would persist if he ignored her, he sat up in bed and snapped into the receiver, "I was sleeping."

Sounding supremely unapologetic, Sakura's breathy voice sounded in his ear, "Well don't sound so happy to hear from me!"

"I'm not." _I just got a damn break from you._ "What do you want."

"I'm stuck at the airport."

"Not my problem."

"Can I come stay with you?"

"That would require me letting you know where I live."

"And you have no intention of doing that."

"Not in this lifetime."

She tsked in his ear, and he pictured what her expression might be: annoyed, definitely, but clearly amused, because he heard the smile in her voice.

"You think people would still come to our movies if they knew how much we hated each other in real life?" she asked.

Sasuke refused to smile back; not even in the privacy of his own home would he permit himself any show of amusement at Sakura's quick, rapacious wit.

"Why are you calling me."

"I'm bored, mostly. But also because if I have to be inconvenienced when all I want to do is get home, then so do you. It's not fair you're already home and I'm not."

"It's your dumb fault for living across the country."

"Oh, so you don't live across the country, then? Good, that narrows it down quite a bit…"

"I'm hanging up, you asshole."

At that, Sakura burst out laughing, and Sasuke despised the warmth that spread through him at the sound.

"I'll mention that to the writers," she promised. "Maybe in our next movie, they can work in _Sasuke Uchiha_ calling _Sakura Haruno_ an asshole."

The corners of his lips twitched, but Sasuke held firm.

"I'm going back to bed."

But before he could swipe to end the conversation, Sakura stopped him.

"No, wait! I had a reason for calling, I promise. Not just to be a pain in the ass."

" _What._ "

"Your agent talked to my agent this morning."

"…"

"She told me they're both in cahoots for our next project."

"Cahoots?"

"Yeah, cahoots. It means that-"

"I know what it means, you freak."

"Okay then don't interrupt! She says they found the script and that, if it gets picked up by the right director, we could both be looking at the Oscars next year. She also said that no one's allowed to talk to you for a week, according to your agent."

"And you thought, somehow, you were an exception to that?"

"Look, douchebag, there's gonna be a lot of competition for this project and Tsunade got me shortlisted for the role; I'm assuming your agent did the same for you. We need to pull the trigger, see if it's worth it."

Sasuke was fuming. Sakura, for her infinite faults, knew him very, very well, and knew that his interest in taking on coveted, well-written roles would win out over his desire to relax, unbothered and alone, for a week. Kakashi knew that, too, hence passing the information to Sakura's agent, who relayed it to Sakura herself, who was entirely too obnoxious not to bother him with it immediately.

"So? You in?"

Hating that he'd only gotten a few hours' respite from her feminine wiles, and begrudgingly intrigued, he ground out, "Send me the script and don't ever call me again."

He wasn't quick enough to swipe to drown out another peal of laughter.

* * *

"Fucking pain in the ass," Sasuke ground out for the sixth time that morning.

He'd downloaded the script Sakura emailed to him off his home computer and had spent the rest of the night reading it over. To his fury, she was right; the male lead, a shinobi who betrays his homeland to seek great power elsewhere, was well-written, deep and dynamic, his motives suspect, his dialogue minimal but engaging. There would be action scenes, too, stunts that he would perform himself, as well as a romantic subplot, which didn't surprise him, especially if he and Sakura were both up for the lead roles. They'd made movies together for years, and producers were dying to cash in on their chemistry. Sakura, if she snagged the role (and he was quite certain she would), would be portraying a female ninja who, despite numerous physical shortcomings, blossoms into a powerful ally who attempts to save Sasuke's character from a plunge into darkness.

Thinking of Sakura, he could understand why she'd been so intrigued by the role of the female ninja. While she didn't necessarily mind the romantic aspect of the movies she signed onto, she was like him in many respects: interested primarily in a good character and a powerful storyline. The female ninja (unnamed, as of yet) was written very well, from what he could see so far, had an interesting back-story, plenty of character development…everything Sakura looked for in a role.

He sighed as he reached the end of the script, then set back in his desk chair, stretching his arms behind his head.

So much for his vacation.

"Pain in the ass," he repeated vengefully.

Bogey let out a loud whine from the kitchen, indicating that he wanted a walk, but Sasuke ignored him. He hadn't slept well, haunted by the potential the script held for him, and for his career. This was typical Sakura, though: allow him to be contented with the prospect of a few days to himself, then present him with the juiciest, meatiest, most awards-worthy script he'd come across since signing his Hollywood contract as a teenager.

"Quiet, Bogey!" he called irritably, when Bogey whined again. "Damn dog."

His phone rang, and he sighed when he saw Sakura's name; as if clairvoyant, she always seemed to know when she was on his mind.

"Didn't I say not to call me anymore?" he asked in lieu of greeting.

"It's good, isn't it? The script. Really good."

"Tch, the title's weak."

"I know, that part's a little silly. 'Konoha: Lost City of Leaves.' But you know they always throw ridiculous working titles in there to start, they'll improve it before the end. But it's good, I know you think so."

"Mediocre."

"Oh, bullshit, Sasuke!" Sakura was laughing on the other end of the phone, and he steeled himself against the tinkling sound's witchy allure. "C'mon, I'm doing you a favor."

"You're doing yourself a favor. You think if they know we're both going out for the lead roles, they'll be likelier to give it to us."

Sakura's annoyed tsk on the other line brought him great satisfaction; at least he irritated her as greatly as she irritated him.

"If you think I'm trying to piggyback off your film success, instead of capitalize on my own," she said hotly, "then I don't know why I waste my time talking to you. Look, I saw the script and before I even knew you were in contention, I saw you in the role. Okay? This shinobi? He's just like you. He's bad at relationships, he's shit with people and he's an overall piece of garbage but so are you. It's like a perfect fit. Easy Oscar."

"Don't try to sweeten the pot," he hissed, stung at her steady stream of insults.

"…how's Sedona?"

Sasuke froze. "How do you know where I…"

"Your area code on Caller ID. I looked it up; it's an Arizona area code."

"Fucking creepy little st…"

"Oh come on, I still don't know where your house is. But I bet it's nicer than here," she added wistfully.

Sasuke pictured New York City in his mind; not as bad as LA, a place he point-blank refused to make his home, but still too busy, too populated for his tastes. He preferred the dry heat and solitude of the desert.

"I just got home, like, ten minutes ago," she went on conversationally. "Nightmare, absolutely a nightmare. Finally got a flight out but I was _recognized,_ and ughhhh. Maybe Tsunade's right when she says I should get a bodyguard but it just feels elitist and wrong, right?"

"…you don't have a fucking bodyguard?"

"Of course not," she replied briskly, "which you'd know if you attempted to be friends with me."

"We're not friends."

"Oh I know, but it's not for lack of trying on my end! They're doing open auditions next week but if we show up on Monday, before everyone else gets a shot over the weekend, we're basically guaranteed to be cast. So?"

Sasuke was _fuming,_ but he knew the answer he would give. So did Sakura.

* * *

 **note..** thanks for reading, let me know if you liked it. have a good weekend :)


	2. Chapter 2

Sakura remembered the day Miss Crabhammer's Summer Camp first aired, and the seed of envy that had flowered within her when Ino Yamanaka made her starring debut.

They'd been in middle school back then, and while Sakura hadn't been even a blip on the network radar due to "looks too exotic for mainstream" and "does this girl even have a personality?", Ino had experienced a meteoric rise: from child model in local department store print ads to starring in a few commercials for Home Goods, she'd auditioned for and nabbed the role of Jessie Chin, a plucky, precocious young camper who made things difficult for eponymous Miss Crabhammer. The sitcom had been a massive success, and Ino was a celebrity overnight.

Sakura, at twelve, had been so proud of Ino, and so deeply, deeply jealous of her as well. She'd tried her hand at the same auditions, but she was always turned away; network executives found her appearance, pink hair, seafoam green eyes, thin, waifish figure, too unusual to appeal to the critical primetime market. Even before she opened her mouth to speak the lines she'd rigorously memorized, even before she was given a chance to prove that she had the acting skills necessary to make it in the industry, the bigwig executives had made up their mind about her.

Blonde-haired, blue-eyed Ino, with her bubbly personality and bold, fearless delivery, however, was another story. She'd become a child star thanks to Miss Crabhammer's Summer Camp, and the void that had settled between the two best friends grew bigger, more pronounced. Sakura used to watch Miss Crabhammer alone, convinced that with every episode passed, Ino was growing farther and farther away from her.

Ino had been the most famous twelve-year-old in the country for a time. Her parents immediately relocated her to Los Angeles to be closer to the studio, and for the three years Miss Crabhammer was on the air, Ino and Sakura never saw each other once. Sakura always felt their phone calls were one-sided; it seemed like Ino was constantly trying to hurry the conversation along, like she had somewhere better to be. Saddened, and by now more wounded than jealous, Sakura gradually stopped trying.

But fame is a fickle friend, and Sakura read the article in the Daily News before hearing it from Ino directly:

She was in rehab. Anorexia, combined with a prescription pill addiction. 15 and nearly dead.

Miss Crabhammer's Summer Camp was abruptly canceled. There were rumors that one of the directors had carried on an illicit affair with Ino, a minor; Sakura was never sure if those rumors were true. If they were, Ino hadn't said a word.

Instead, Ino was in and out of treatment facilities for the next several years. She'd successfully completed her most recent stint at a rehab center in Florida, and moved to New York City. Her career as a television actress was over – no one suffered more than lost child stars – but she was taking film classes at NYU, attending weekly therapy sessions, and best of all, had rekindled her friendship with Sakura.

The unfortunate thing in all of this, which Sakura reflected on now as she made her way to the beautiful old brownstone where Ino loved, was the timing.

Just as Ino's world fell apart, just as she dropped out of the world's favor and become yet another punchline in the eternal joke that was a child star, Sakura experienced her own meteoric rise.

The television market was unforgiving at the time, and there wasn't much in the way of diversity. Sakura, Japanese-American with exotic colorings, simply didn't fit the mold the American public was accustomed to, and it proved fatal for her ambitions. She'd been soundly rejected from every audition she'd gone on, and had been close to giving up her dreams entirely when she was discovered by Tsunade.

Tsunade, a former actress-turned-publicist, had seen something in Sakura that the network TV executives couldn't be bothered to see: raw talent. The only problem was Sakura was trying to advertise herself to the wrong market.

Her real future, Tsunade told her over coffee that first morning, lay in film.

 _"_ _Here's the thing, kid,"_ she had said back then, as Sakura sat awestruck across from her, unable to believe she was actually facing this big-time LA publicist, " _you've got the goods. What's more, you know you've got the goods. Real talent, I'm talking. It doesn't come along very often. But you're playing to the wrong market. Those TV execs all want the same thing, and it's something you don't have: they want the blondes, they want the bubbleheads, they want someone they're used to._

 _"_ _I want to give them something they haven't seen before."_

And the rest was history.

Sakura had been overjoyed to have found such support in Tsunade. She'd coached her acting, put her in contact with the right people, helped her find the kind of auditions worth going on. Soon, the name Sakura Haruno flooded the film market, and directors started inquiring about the strange, beautiful girl who challenged all the market stereotypes. Sakura was on her way to the top, and everyone knew it.

But the one thing that dampened the euphoria of success was knowing her friend, Ino, was two steps from rock bottom as she made her climb to the top.

Sakura sighed and pulled up her hood, taking a quick glance around her to make sure no one had recognized her. There were times when she was almost desperate for anonymity, times like now, when all she wanted was to reconnect with her old best friend, who she hadn't seen in three months while she was shooting in LA. It was one of the reasons she refused, point-blank, to hire a bodyguard.

It was already difficult maintaining her friendship with Ino when she was away so often.

Content that no one identified her as THE Sakura Haruno, she jogged up the front steps to Ino's brownstone and rang the bell, tamping down unreasonable feelings of anxiety. She hated the industry for what it had done to Ino, and part of her hated herself for being a part of it, for being complicit in the professional divide that separated them even when they were together.

But she shook that away and smiled beautifully as Ino threw open the door, let out a scream of joy, and catapulted herself into Sakura's waiting arms.

* * *

Once they had settled in Ino's living room with two smoldering cups of chai tea between them, Sakura demanded to know about Ino's classes.

"I want to know everything," she snapped. "Tell me. Now."

"What's to tell?" Ino chuckled, self-deprecating in a way she never had been, before her meltdown. "They're classes. They're fine. Are we going to pretend like you weren't just on a movie shoot with Sasuke Uchiha?"

 _I'm always on a movie shoot with Sasuke Uchiha,_ thought Sakura, frank and honest, but how could she say that without sounding like she was bragging?

"It was fine," she said airily, wondering if it sounded like she was trying too hard to be modest. She caught the look in Ino's eye and sighed; it was one of those uncomfortable moments, when she felt like she had to hold herself back for Ino's sake. She hated feeling like that, hated feeling like Ino's happiness was contingent on her saying the right thing.

"You always do that," Ino huffed, leaning back against the overstuffed sofa and closing her eyes, as if Sakura was too annoying to even look at.

"Do what?" Sakura demanded, like she didn't already know.

"Act like I'm gonna snap and fall apart if you tell me one good thing about your life. Newsflash, Sakura: I've been sober for two years. I'm in therapy every other minute to keep it that way. I'm in school and doing well, I'm starting out on the play circuit now. You don't have to keep feeling sorry for me."

"I'm glad to hear all that," Sakura said, and she meant it. "But…I don't know. I never want you to feel uncomfortable."

Ino smirked. "Look, I appreciate you looking out for me and all. But it's not much of a friendship if you can't honestly tell me how you feel, what you're doing, how your life is. I'm not the girl I was back then. Thank God."

Sakura breathed a little easier, and then grinned. "You gonna tell me why you cut all your hair off, at least?"

Ino blushed a little as she ran a hand through her chin-length bob primly, giving it a little shake for emphasis.

"It's for this role I'm auditioning for," she retorted. "One of my film school friends wrote a play – it's fantastic, it's about a single mother, she's a lesbian, fighting her abusive ex for custody – but anyway, the lead has super short hair. I wanted to show him I was committed."

"I think you SHOULD be committed," Sakura teased, "cutting off all that hair just for a role."

"You're one to talk!" Ino hissed automatically. "Keeping that obnoxious pink mop of yours. Do us all a favor and shave it. Hope it comes back in a normal color."

And with a few insults, Sakura felt the balance was restored between them, at least for now.

* * *

Feeling rejuvenated on her way back to her apartment that night, happy from her reunion with Ino and happy to be back in the city she loved, Sakura answered Sasuke's phone call with more cheeriness than she usually spared him.

"It's only been twenty-four hours since we talked," she said by way of greeting. "Careful, or someone might think you miss me!"

"You should have your head examined," Sasuke returned bluntly, unimpressed as ever. "Are you home?"

"Just about. I was visiting my friend Ino, she…"

"You know I don't care. I faxed you the contract for that dumbass ninja movie."

"The contr…Sasuke we haven't even auditioned for it yet."

"It was written for us. You were right. Once my agent called the production company, they signed us."

Sakura was irritated. "You know I hate just taking a role. I like auditioning for it. I like the competition of it."

"Your numerous neuroses aren't worth listening to," he informed her. "They won't sign one of us without the other, though."

She sighed. "Figures."

"So sign it and send it back. After the press junket's over, they want us both on location to start shooting."

"LA?"

"No, idiot. Japan."

* * *

If Ino was bummed that Sakura's visit home was so brief, she didn't let on. Instead she drove her friend to the airport a few days later with a few of her film school friends, all of whom were surprisingly casual when Ino revealed her best friend was none other than famous actress Sakura Haruno.

"Let me know how your audition goes," Sakura demanded, when Ino had pulled up to the terminal. "I'm serious. The only thing attractive about you was your hair, I need to know if it was worth the sacrifice."

"I really hope nothing horrible ever happens to you," Ino returned nastily, and the two girls hugged, tightly, closely, dearly. "Tell Sasuke Uchiha I'm sorry he's had to make out with you in all his movies so far. He should know that there's a higher class of woman out there."

"He'd be the first to agree with you!" Sakura laughed good-naturedly. "Come visit me if you can, otherwise I'll be back as soon as possible!"

"Take care, asshole."

"You too, bitch."

* * *

"You know, I have no idea why they let you bring your dog on the flight," Sakura remarked idly, as Bogey jumped into her lap and licked her face enthusiastically. "Anyone else has to store their poor pets below but noooooo, Sasuke Uchiha gets first class seating for his dog."

Sasuke, throwing his luggage in the overhead container, didn't dignify her words with a response. Instead he sat down beside her as though granting a very exclusive favor.

Sakura had flown out to LAX from New York, where they would make the remainder of the journey to Japan. Sasuke and Bogey, his wonderful dog, joined her on the connecting flight. She couldn't resist the opportunity to tease him, and the preferential treatment he received, and therefore extended to his dog.

"I think your line is 'Hey, Sakura, how are you?' Whenever you're ready."

"You are a pain in the ass," Sasuke replied bluntly.

Sakura laughed. "I mean, no points for creativity, but definitely a few for impact."

"Bogey get off her. I don't want you to catch something."

"Catch this," she snapped, and tossed him a middle finger. Bogey ignored his master and barked. "See, even Bogey says 'Fuck you.'"

Sasuke smirked, and she loved it. She loved being able to make him smile, or laugh, especially when he wanted to be cross with her. It didn't happen often, but often enough.

"You excited?" she asked, checking that her seatbelt was secure around Bogey's massive girth. "About this movie, I mean. I am. It's good, Sasuke. I mean the script is really, really good."

"Hn. The title sucks."

"You know they'll end up changing it eventually."

"They'd better. I don't want my name attached to something so asinine."

"How do you think I feel? Uchiha – Haruno. MY name gets attached to something asinine every single movie we make."

"You tried too hard for that one."

"Eh, they can't all be homeruns. But seriously, aren't you excited? This could be the big one. The Oscar one."

"Whatever. Can you just shut up? It's a long flight to Tokyo and I'm not going to spend it talking to someone too stupid to hire a bodyguard."

Fortunately, the flight attendants who manned flights heading in and out of LAX were more than used to celebrity passengers, and aside from a few extra-wide smiles and one request for their autographs, Sasuke and Sakura were left largely alone. One of the very few benefits to LA: seeing a celebrity was so commonplace that most everyone had a story about it. Sakura liked the attention every now and then, but most of the time, she preferred to be left alone.

That was something she liked about Sasuke as well: for all the time he spent in the limelight, never had she seen him actively court it. He kept to himself on the set, and when shooting had wrapped, he always fled back to his isolated house in Sedona. He kept a very close circle of friends, a circle she hoped to be part of someday, but in the meantime, she would settle for being the person who could effortlessly get under his skin.

She suspected that for all their differences, they actually had quite a bit in common.

As the flight took off, she stole a secretive glance at him out of the corner of her eye, and hid her slight blush in Bogey's wide neck.

 _And as far as co-stars go,_ she thought shyly, _you could definitely do a lot worse._


	3. Chapter 3

Sasuke had been to Tokyo a few times in the past, promoting his previous movies, posing for pictures, taking part in a few interviews and one memorable, exceedingly uncomfortable panel discussion that had ended in three arrests, but he had never ventured past the city limits, always returning to the States once his professional obligations were fulfilled. This new movie was to be shot primarily in rural Japan, in areas TBD, and he was a little curious as to what the country looked like outside the glittering, crowded limits of the capitol. As someone who found more to enjoy the further he was from a city, he was interested to see the country of his ancestors up close and personal.

Sakura had been nearly silent on the long bus ride to their first location. She looked enraptured by the scenery, the lush green forests and the sparkling night sky overhead. He was reminded of a review of her performance during their last movie, a spy thriller about two unwilling secret agents who are forced to work together on a dangerous foreign mission. " _The performance of Sakura Haruno, however, is what elevates We Spy above the ubiquitous secret agent film; she is able to vacillate effortlessly from sleek, sexy femme fatale to wide-eyed ingenue in a matter of moments."_

Sasuke smirked to himself and couldn't help but agree. It was difficult to reconcile this fascinated girl with her nose pressed nearly to the glass with the sneaky, sarcastic woman he'd shared most of his career with.

Their first shoot location was in a remote, dense forest two hundred miles away from the nearest city. Sasuke saw nothing wrong with that; less people around meant less people clamoring for a photo, an autograph, a shorn lock of his hair or a discarded hunk of his gum. He knew it was only a matter of time before the press caught on, and hoped to enjoy the solitude of this ancient Japanese countryside a little longer.

"This should be different," Sakura observed at his shoulder, glancing around the set. "Authentic. This place looks as untouched by time as it's possible to be in this day and age."

"That's profound," Sasuke scoffed, silently agreeing with her estimation.

She giggled – how could he never seem to properly offend her? – and pulled out her cell phone.

"Looks like we're not meant to meet with anyone till tomorrow," she said, examining her schedule. "Director hasn't even arrived yet."

"And we still don't know who it is?"

"Nope. They're really keeping it under wraps. Whoever it is, they must want to make maximum impact. But a story this good? It's got to be someone great. Someone with vision."

Sasuke sighed, effecting disinterest, even as his mind raced through the catalogue of prolific directors for a suitable candidate. Bogey gave a low, tired whine beside him; the damn dog hadn't slept a wink on the entire flight from California.

"Sounds like Bogey needs some sleep," Sakura observed. She scratched him between his ears and Sasuke tried very hard not to notice how frantically Bogey's tail wagged at the contact. "So do I, for that matter. I'm gonna head back to my trailer. I'll see you in the morning?"

"Unfortunately."

Another giggle, and she was gone.

Sasuke decided she was right, though, and guided his dog to the small trailer with his name emblazoned on the front door. An assistant was waiting, a squirrelly-looking kid obviously still in film school, and jumped when he saw Sasuke approach.

"Mr. Uchiha, welcome to Japan!" he exclaimed, almost in a panic. Sasuke stared, unimpressed. "Er, your, uh, yeah this is your trailer. Right behind here. My name's Udon, I'll be your assistant, and…"

"Don't need one," Sasuke said shortly, sidestepping Udon and tugging on Bogey's leash to do the same.

"But…they assigned me here, and…"

"Tell 'em I don't need an assistant."

"But…!"

Sasuke wasn't listening anymore. It had been a very long flight, he had a bad headache, Sakura's lilting laugh was still ringing in his ears and all he really wanted was a good night's sleep.

* * *

Sasuke was surprised to find Sakura awake so early the next morning; she sat alone at the table in the break room, halfway through a bowl of oatmeal with a pot of coffee beside her. She was thumbing through her script as she ate, mouth moving soundlessly over her lines, and every so often she would make a quick note in harsh-looking pen in the margins. He sat across from her, pulled the coffee towards him, and poured a mug for himself.

"'Morning," she said, with a smile, and he always wondered how she was able to do that. Smile at him. He was nothing but mean to her, and intentionally, but you would never guess it from the way she treated him. "How'd you sleep?"

"Like hell. Sent me a damn assistant."

Sakura giggled. "It's like they don't even know you."

With that, she passed him the creamer and returned to her script like he wasn't there.

It was very easy to like Sakura when she was working. Times like this, for example; she didn't try to make conversation, she didn't attempt to rouse him into one of their famous arguments. She hadn't yet been to hair and makeup for their preliminary shots, and was dressed in a pair of cotton shorts and a hoodie to accommodate the chill of the early morning. With her hair tugged back in a ponytail and not a stitch of makeup on her face, she looked clean, refreshed. Completely unlike someone who'd just traveled for 24 hours straight.

Sasuke paused and tried to remember his reasons for holding her at arms' length. Sometimes it was easy to remind himself why, outside of their movies, he'd never attempted to negotiate her out of her clothes, never tried to silence her catty little mouth, never tried to see if the reality of famous Sakura Haruno compared in any way to the fantasy of a million guys across the world. Sometimes, when the press hounded him at interviews, when the questions became too invasive, it was easy to remind himself why he never dated within the industry. Sakura was insufferable, she was annoying, she was gratingly omnipresent in his life. And she was a celebrity. All good reasons to abstain.

But there were many other times – cropping up in greater frequency these days – that he found himself questioning his decision to write her off as a potential partner. She was smart, she was funny. Extremely kind – he knew of her philanthropy perhaps better than anyone else except that undertaker of an agent of hers – and she was beautiful. She knew him very well, and tried very hard to be his friend.

Sasuke knew it must be the early hour making him doubt himself. He shook his head, clearing these aggravating thoughts from his mind, and took a long hard swig of coffee to wake himself up.

"We're supposed to meet with the director in an hour," Sakura said suddenly, glancing at her phone and reading a text. "Our agents will be there, too. Weird, a closed door meeting. This whole thing is weird, right?"

"Hn." He had to agree. Never had he signed onto a movie without knowing the director beforehand. The script was good – but this was odd.

She put down her pen and stretched her arms behind her head. "I think I'm gonna take a run really quick, before we get started. You want me to take Bogey?"

The offer was so casual, so natural, that Sasuke actually considered it for a moment, before he remembered the necessity for walls and boundaries when it came to Sakura.

"Thanks," he said, "but don't worry about it. I'll take him later tonight."

"Okay." She smiled again and stood up from their table. "I'll see you at the meeting. Director's trailer, one hour."

"Aa."

He was allowed exactly one minute of solitude with his breakfast before someone dropped into the empty seat across from him. Glaring across the table, he saw a kid about the age of the assistant he'd rudely dismissed the night before, with messy hair and a scarf clearly meant to be fashionable and edgy.

Sasuke thought he looked like a twat.

"Dude how do you _stand it?_ " the kid groaned.

"Excuse me?"

"You work with _Sakura Haruno._ " He said her name with the reverence typically reserved for a nature goddess. "All the time. You get to…to kiss her, and…I meant to ask you – my name's Konohamaru, by the way – when you two do love scenes, do you _actually_ get to…"

"Get the hell out of here," Sasuke interjected hotly, infuriated both at the interruption of his morning routine and the presumptuous, obnoxious assistant who'd parked himself in front of Sasuke like he had any right to be there.

"Can't, sorry." Konohamaru seemed supremely unaffected by Sasuke's wrath. "I'm your new assistant, since you fired Udon last night. That was pretty cold, man."

"I don't need a goddamn assistant!"

"Not what the director thinks. And no offense but he's the one signing my paychecks, not you. Anyway, do you need anything?"

"Get. Out."

Konohamaru raised his eyebrows before laughing. "All right, all right, I can tell when I'm not wanted. I'll be in your trailer. Hey, if you don't mind, do you think you could introduce me to Sakura Haruno?"

Sasuke rose from the table without another word, and made his way out of the break room.

* * *

Sakura was breathless and sweaty from her run when Sasuke met her at the door to the director's trailer. It did not help his thoughts from earlier, and he made a note to be doubly hostile to her, just to balance out his infernal attraction. If Sakura ever figured out how badly he wanted her, deep, _deep_ down, it would be the end of life as he knew it.

"Hey," she panted, smiling, looking exhilarated as the rush of endorphins coursed through her. "Just a heads up, there's a pretty sweet trail that cuts along the river." She pointed out through the trees she'd just run in from. "Ground's pretty level, but there's a decent hill to push over, and…"

"Did I ask for your life story?" he snapped. "Let's just do this."

As always, Sakura looked superbly unruffled as she knelt to pet Bogey, whose big, stupid eyes were filled with love for her.

"I know, baby," she cooed. "I don't know how you stand him. God knows I hardly can."

Sasuke's mouth twitched with the urge to smirk, but he suppressed it; he refused to let Sakura know how funny he found her, and without another word, slammed his fist twice on the door to the director's trailer.

"Come in!" called a masculine voice he was swore he'd heard before, before opening the door. Sakura swept inside ahead of him, earning the back of her head a spiteful glare before he followed with his dog.

The first thing he noticed was Sakura's agent, a beastly, bombastic woman named Tsunade who practically shoved him aside in her haste to hug Sakura.

"Hi!" Sakura squealed, giddy. "I didn't even know you got in till today, how was your flight?"

"Exquisite," Tsunade replied briskly, withdrawing from her client, all business once again. Sasuke knew her to be a shark in the PR business, ruthless and impossible to bully, but she let her guard down very, very rarely, and only ever for Sakura.

It made him hate her less, because if even Tsunade had a soft spot for her, then his own hidden fondness wasn't so embarrassing.

Sasuke looked away with a roll of his eyes, and then noticed Kakashi Hatake, his own agent, standing against the far wall with a book in his hand; he smiled benignly over his allergy mask and offered a friendly, "Yo."

Bogey barked and jumped at Kakashi, who bent to pet him, and Sasuke joined them, folding his arms.

"So who's the director?" he asked suspiciously. "And why all the secrecy?"

"Impact," Kakashi supplied vaguely, and Sasuke noticed his eyes crinkle up even further. He immediately felt ill at ease. Whatever humored Kakashi so much could hardly bode well for him.

"You stand to lose a lot of money if they make an ass out of me," Sasuke reminded him coolly.

"I stand to make a lot of money if this movie turns out as good as we're thinking it will."

The quartet was interrupted by the same loud, familiar voice that had welcomed them into the trailer:

"It will kill at the box office, it will go down in history, and it will make legends of us all!"

Sasuke frowned and turned towards the newcomer, only to find himself, for once, properly shocked. Tall, dressed down in comfortable clothing and with his telltale long white mane tied back in a ponytail, Jiraiya made his grand entrance, a huge grin on his face and a bullhorn in his hand.

There was a moment of stunned silence – clearly not the reception Jiraiya had been hoping for, based on his entrance – before Sakura responded with a loud, decisive, "No WAY." She looked angry, and she even threw a filthy look her agent's way before stepping up to Jiraiya and folding her arms.

"Not a chance," she said hotly. "I'm not working with this misogynist asshole. Tell me this is some kind of a joke!"

Sasuke was inclined to believe that they'd both been pranked by their agents. Jiraiya had talent as a director – but he was known far and wide for his films that verged on pornography. There were rumors that the actresses he cast had a cup size minimum, and in the film industry, he was widely derided.

"Now just relax, Sakura," Tsunade said smoothly. "Now I realize Jiraiya is somewhat…well, unconventional in terms of his methods…"

"He's a _pig,_ " Sakura hissed.

"…but you read the script, didn't you? And loved it? So what's the problem here?"

"I wrote the female lead specifically for you, Miss Haruno," said Jiraiya, with a sanctimonious little bow towards her that she seemed appropriately repulsed by. "A fiery heroine, who starts off weak and worthless, but who overcomes great odds to obtain enormous strength and save the man she loves from a horrible path of darkness…she's brave, and brilliant, and beautiful, with an inner power that lifts her above her circumstances…"

"Is that supposed to flatter me?" Sakura snapped. "Tsunade I can't believe you propped me up for this. This guy is a total pervert!"

For once, Sasuke was in agreement with her. His best friend Naruto worked as Jiraiya's assistant, and he'd gotten more than an earful about Jiraiya's various methods, as well as his boisterous personality.

"We're not doing this," Sasuke said decisively.

All eyes turned to him, and he continued, "That's why you didn't tell us who he was. Not for 'impact.' You knew we'd bolt the second you said his name."

"Exactly!" Sakura chimed in furiously. "You knew I wouldn't work with someone who makes the NC-17 shit he pumps out on a daily basis, so you pretended like it was someone people would kill to work for."

"C'mon," Sasuke said brusquely. He placed his hand at the small of Sakura's back to urge her forward. "We're done here."

"Now wait just a second!" Jiraiya finally spoke up in his own defense. He didn't look remotely affected by Sakura's vicious assessment of his character; in fact, he looked excited.

"You both read the script, right? You both loved it, right?"

"What's that got to do with anything?" Sakura snapped.

"Because I wrote it," Jiraiya revealed importantly. "Every word, I wrote. All the characters, and all their idiosyncrasies…all came from right up here." He pointed to his temple. "Now I know I have somewhat of a…checkered past in the industry…"

"You're a porn peddler."

"…but this is what I've been working on for years, in secret. My transition to the world of quote-unquote _serious_ filmmaking. And it's good. You all know it's good. I'm talking Oscar-winning here. And for all the success that you two have had so far, the Oscars have eluded you."

Sasuke had to admit that Jiraiya had a point. The movies he made with Sakura were good, but they weren't Oscar-worthy, and neither one of them had ever been nominated for the acting categories at the prestigious award shows.

"It's no secret there's whitewashing in Hollywood," Jiraiya went on, now that the two leads had fallen silent. "It's difficult for Asian-Americans in the industry. So the entire cast of characters here? Of Asian descent. Same goes for everyone on the crew. Don't tell me you've never experienced any difficulties getting your foot in the door, as Asian actors?"

Sasuke certainly had. It helped having an impressive acting lineage like his own – really it was his mother who'd blazed the trail for him – but he also knew how hard it was to score top-choice roles as an actor of Japanese descent.

"I noticed that, actually," Sakura admitted, sounding reluctant to give Jiraiya any credit at all. "That the crew was Asian. I didn't realize it was intentional though. I thought maybe you hired out of the area."

"It's a PR dream come true," Tsunade added. "And you said it yourself, that the script was phenomenal."

"I can't make this movie without you two," Jiraiya put all his cards on the table at last. "And you both need roles like this for the Oscars next year. I can get you there. Can you put aside your judgments of my past, so we can make something historic for the future?"

Sakura hesitated, looking up at Sasuke to gauge his reaction, but he was still on the fence. He didn't want to work with a porn director – but the script really was fantastic, the kind of story and compelling character he'd been looking to portray for years. His reluctance to associate himself with a smut director gave him pause, but the story really _was_ as good as Jiraiya was boasting. He was stunned such a good story had come from the old creep.

"I want wardrobe approval," Sakura said boldly, taking Sasuke's noncommittal silence as cue to open negotiations.

"Now, Sakura, be reasonable here," Jiraiya all but choked. "We both know that there's a certain…well, expectation for actresses, to…ah…"

"I'm not letting you parade me around in lingerie for ratings."

"But you've…I mean, you've been in a bikini in your movies before, and to be totally honest, it would be a crime to hide a figure like yours, and…"

"Oh, so you want to use me to break the Asian glass ceiling, only so you can throw me in some tit-showing teddy to appeal to a demographic of shitty piss-boys just like you? Not happening. My character's a ninja. I'm not doing a gratuitous boob shot. I want wardrobe approval, or I'm out."

Jiraiya looked horrified.

"You need me to make this movie, remember?" she threw back at him.

Sasuke was impressed. Sakura had never negotiated for wardrobe approval before, and had worn very little onscreen without complaint. But she had apparently inherited her agent's skill for deal-making, facing down a man who everyone knew wanted his actresses nearly naked on screen and threatened to walk off the set if he didn't agree to her terms.

"…I guess," he muttered grudgingly.

"Good," she said. "Then it's settled."

"Not for me it's not," Sasuke snapped. "If she gets wardrobe approval, I get to fire my assistant. And my dog gets his own bed in my trailer."

Jiraiya looked a little surprised, but apparently it wasn't the atomic bomb that Sakura had dropped on him.

"Well…I guess we can work something like that out," he said, scratching his head.

"Okay then we're done here," Sakura sniffed haughtily. "C'mon, Bogey."

To Sasuke's great irritation, his traitorous dog followed Sakura loyally out of the trailer, leaving him to tag along behind.

"It's really gonna be great, just trust me!" Jiraiya called after them, but Sasuke slammed the door shut on his way out, determined to write this day off as a colossal loss.

* * *

"I can't believe this," Sakura grumbled over her dinner, stabbing a California roll with her chopstick with particular venom. "My own agent, throwing me to the wolves like this. I've avoided directors like Jiraiya my whole career, and for a reason."

"Hn."

"I mean…if the script wasn't this damn good…"

"You'd walk."

"Right."

"Same."

"But it is," she sighed gustily. "So I guess we've got to make the best of it, right? I mean it can't be as bad as we're making it out to be."

"Certainly is shaping up to be pretty fucking terrible, considering I'm stuck for three months in this forest with _you._ "

Apparently his meanness was enough to rouse her out of her bad mood, because the smile she threw him made his knees buckle under the table. Nothing pleased her more than sparring with him.

"I'm pretty excited to kick your ass in this movie," she confided in him. "We have a few fight scenes. I'm particularly looking forward to Scene 12."

"I've wanted to smack you around since I met you, this gives me the opportunity to do it without being labeled a woman beater."

Sakura threw her head back and laughed, and the sound charmed him, and he hated himself for causing it.

"Don't expect me to go easy on you," she warned him playfully. "You're not the only one who's got some pent-up aggression here."

"Is that a fact."

"Oh yes. I fully intend to rock your world, Sasuke Uchiha."

Sasuke growled under his breath, his omnipresent attraction to her flaring up at the most inopportune times; she sat across from him, batting her pretty lashes at him, looking supremely aware of the effect she was having on him.

And as always, when she threatened to take the upper hand, he had to raise the stakes.

"I fully intend to make you regret signing onto this movie," he promised smoothly, narrowing his eyes and giving her a vicious grin that made her gasp a little, her façade of levelheadedness briefly faltering.

"Is _that_ a fact?" she tossed back at him.

"Bet your ass it is. I'm taking my dog on a walk, I've had enough of you for today."

He stood up, convinced he'd gotten the better of her in that interchange, and whistled for Bogey, who came running. But before they'd gotten out of sight, Sakura called out, "Take the trail, Sasuke! By the river! I know Bogey would love it!"

"Mind your own business!" he snapped back.

He had to remember the reasons why he kept her at length, the many reasons he stifled his own attraction to her and his refusal to consider her attraction to him. He had to remember why he stifled his smiles around her, why he avoided being alone with her for too long, why he wished his dog didn't love her, why he pointedly ignored her suggestions.

Sakura was a minefield. He had to tread carefully.

(Bogey loved the river trail.)

* * *

 **note..** happy tax day. trump ain't released his tax returns.

xoxo daisy


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